


One Night At McCool's

by took_skye



Series: Living For the Night [1]
Category: Criminal Minds
Genre: Alternate Universe - Noir, F/M, POV Female Character, POV First Person, Porn Video, Prompt Fic, Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-04-14
Updated: 2011-04-14
Packaged: 2017-10-22 23:18:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,500
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/243659
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/took_skye/pseuds/took_skye
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Emily's all for enjoying a night with mobster, David Rossi, she just doesn't want him keeping a record of it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	One Night At McCool's

**Author's Note:**

> This was based on the prompt of "Sex Tape" by the Rossi/Prentiss fan community on Livejournal for their Spring Smut-A-Thon

  
_"One woman used up only 3 minutes, and another used three 2-hour tapes." ~ Graham, Sex, Lies, and Videotape_

***///***

I have had very few rules in my life. Never put anything in writing. Never trust the claims of a religious man. And never, ever, let yourself be recorded no matter how amazing the lay. This is how I broke the last one.

David Rossi is well known in Quaint Cove for a number of things. Some are un-debated facts: his ruthless business tactics, his ability to stay five steps ahead of the law, and his appetite for women. Others are more rumors: that he once killed a man for insulting his favorite restaurant, that he’d been childhood friends and possibly even lovers with the mayor, and that even though he can be a total gentleman he has a thing for filming his conquests in the sack.

I don’t ask until we stumble-kiss ourselves into his master bedroom, then I let the words come out in heated breaths as if it’s part of the turn-on. “Where is it?”

“What?” the mobster smirks just enough to let me know he knows exactly what I’m talking about.

I give a laugh as his hands find my breasts and give a squeeze from behind. The moan I give comes with a twist to face him. “The camera, Mr. Rossi.” Our lips meet and I continue into his. “Where is it?”

“If I tell you that it’ll ruin the mood,” Rossi chuckles out as he allows only enough room to pull my shirt off before pressing his lips along the hem of the black satin bra left.

“If you don’t,” my hand goes to his hair before I twist slightly at the wrist. Not enough to really hurt, just enough to get his full attention as I smile my threat. “I’ll knee you in the balls and leave. Now that’d really ruin the mood, wouldn’t it?”

The man laughs some, liking my fight, as he moves to look me in the eye once more. “Relax Emily, it’s stored in the armoire and it’s not even on.”

I reward him with a deep kiss and the laxing of my hand to massage his scalp a little. “Why not?” I ask with a slight smirk.

“I’m bad, but not that bad,” Rossi replies with a deep chuckle as he presses in, hoping to get me on my back.

I push back. I never just give in. “And if I want it on?” The question comes with a playful hand at his belt.

“Do you?”

Belt’s undone and my hand works its way into trousers and feels coarse hair and beating flesh. I watch the mobster’s eyes roll up and closed. “No briefs?”

“Maid’s day off.” It’s meant to be a crack, but it’s moaned out in a way that just makes it a statement.

“I want it on, David.” My mouth moves against his, breathes heat before giving his lips a lick. “I want to know you’ll be watching and fucking yourself to this later.” One hand holds his face to mine while the other gives a long stroke to that reason his club is named _The Stallion_.

Whatever he mumbles out in his moan seems to be an agreement as he makes the effort to reopen his eyes and leave my presence. I take the opportunity to watch where he goes…he’d been honest; it was tucked within the armoire and not yet turned on.

“The way you asked before,” Rossi started, breaking only to clear his throat as a way to clear his mind, “I thought you wouldn’t want me to.”

I laugh some as I head over, dropping some more clothing aside in the process. “I just like to know when I’m being filmed is all. Not fair to record a woman when she’s not ready.”

“And are you ready?”

“You tell me.” I let my smirk draw itself on my reply.

David Rossi seems almost wary, but he turns his head to see me standing cock-hipped in bra and matching garter belt and stockings. The rest of him turns shortly after and I can see how ready he is. He smiles as his eyes take in every inch of me over and over again.

“You waiting for an engraved invitation, Mr. Rossi?” I tease some.

He’s not.

I’m up on the dresser in under five and barely able to catch the breath knocked from me as Rossi’s mouth devours mine. Colognes, lighters, and other knick-knacks topple over and clatter to the floor. My feet push the man’s pants down past his knees and he takes full advantage of the angle my legs are at to do it.

His fingers are powerful, like his hands, and skilled with years of enjoying women in every way imaginable. Digits press and roll my clit to mirror what his tongue does to one nipple and then the other.

I moan hard, long, and hot into his neck as my cunt starts to leak its ache. “David.” My hands shake as they shed his shirt from him.

His moan vibrates straight to my heart.

I slip up to the very edge of the bureau, reach down and grab cock. “Fuck me.”

“That an invitation, Emily?” The swaggering of the smirk is heard as he pops his mouth free of my breast to speak.

“An order.”

His lips attack mine as he removes my hand from his member.

In a push forward and a thrust up from him I’m filled. Impaled. Wide-eyed and mouth gaping I suck in air before letting it out in a loud curse over his shoulder. My eyes catch the little red light from the camera…I can’t believe I nearly forgot about that.

I hear something near my ear, but can’t make it out. “Huh?”

“You okay?” My mobster asks once again.

I smile. “Just…adjusting.”

I can tell he’s grinning a touch without even having to see his face. “Just checking.”

“I’m good.” A point I reinforce with the intentional tightening of my inner walls that brings a rumble up from Rossi’s groin. I chuckle over his skin as he begins to move, grabbing hold of thighs as he does.

When my legs wrap around him a hand moves to cup and squeeze my chest as if in search of the racing heartbeat I’ve got. I work lips and teeth quickly to his, breathing the same air back into his mouth over and over in time with our thrusting hips.

We’d risk falling if we didn’t know what we were doing, but we do. I cling to him and he keeps my ass pinned to the dresser with his weight even as other things are shaken and shattered on the floor.

I feel heat bloom in the pit of my stomach as my nails dig into muscled flesh I can’t currently identify in my passion. “Fuck,” I pant before biting his bottom lip. “Fuck, David, make me come!”

“How?” he grunts in reply before returning the bite.

“Faster.”

He obeys eagerly, double-timing the slams of the bureau into the wall as we fuck.

“Yesss,” my breath makes a hiss of the word. “Hands.”

Only one works its way down between my thighs, the other takes hold of my hair. It works, that ball of tension that’d been building inside grows almost unbearably tight before it pops. Muscles clench as the shock of it runs through my body and out my mouth in a loud cursed moan.

As I tighten in my climax David swells in his. Swells, then drains until there’s satisfied warmth filling me from the inside out.

We’ll go again later that night.

***

I wake up to an empty bed, but that’s no surprise. Neither is the folded note set against a glass of water on the bedside table. I reach out to take and open it.

 _Thanks for the great night. Staff can make you breakfast. See you later tonight._

 _Cheers_

 _David Rossi_

My lips curl into a smile happy to see the stories about him being a gentleman even after are true. I stretch abused muscles in the bed a moment before lifting myself up to sit and then stand. Before anything else I want that tape, I want it in my possession where I have the power to ensure its destruction.

It’s off now as it sits where it was last night, in the second shelf of the armoire cushioned by piles of nice shirts and pants. I pull it out carefully and pop the side to remove the tape. But I don’t find a tape. I find another folded up slip of paper.

 _Nice try._

 _Rossi_

I let out a soft laugh, unable to do anything else at the moment. David Rossi is a clever man; I’ll give him that. But I’ll get him, and the tape, back later.

***///***

 _“It is not deeds or acts that last: it is the [...] record of those deeds and acts” ~ Elbert Hubbard_


End file.
